The Singing Sea
by Auxphono
Summary: Think of this as the last night; think of this as what may come. Post-Slash, One Shot, Completed.


_Title_: "The Singing Sea"  
_Author_: Obscurus ( idolcrystallization@mac.com ) 
_Category_: Angst, Post-Slash 
_Pairings:_ Can't say without spoiling. Just know that it's slashy, and probably will offend you. 
_Rating_: PG-13 (for strong subject matter) 
_Spoilers_: Books 1-4 
_Disclaimer_: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The views and actions of the characters in this fanfic are not those of J.K Rowling, the views/actions of the characters are of my own creation and I take great liberty with them. I apologize to J.K. (if she ever has to read this) for running away with the characters and using them for my own means of entertainment. No harm or offense is meant. 
_Author's notes_: I'd like to give thanks to the wonderful beta that is mine: Blue Moon. She is simply delightful and *grins* her comments were highly amusing. So, thanks babe. This fic's dedicated to my friends: Essa, Wendy, Rheanna (Woot!) and also the the wonderful fic authors whom inspired this. The trio I've thrown together is an interesting mix, I blame them solely on the Muses. If it was my choice, _she_ wouldn't be there. Also, thanks to Z... and yet again, another grand thanks goes to my beta. I owe you! On another note, I'm going to be without net access for a few monthes (starting like, tomorrow). Never fear, I'm gonna continue to write. Things will get done. Ten points to the house of your choice if you know where the end song is from (author, title, album, singer.. and... anime?). 
... oh, and yes, (sorry Blue Moon) this is a one-shot. No backstory given, no future, no past. You're thrown into the mix.... 

_The Singing Sea_

Rosmerta set down drinks before an unlikely set of customers and left them quickly, not wanting to intrude upon their private conversation. The crisp scent of the October air permeated everything around the group; their hair, their clothes... it was an annoyance. The youngest of them spoke up after taking a long sip from a small tumbler. Her eyes were set on her upper classmate, trying to glean a sentimental view of their situation. "What will you be when this is all said and done?"

Had it been any other person, he would have given an untruthful answer. Though, as it was, the facts had to lay bare before her, "Dead, most likely." The slight bobbing of her head lent him knowledge that she would come to accept his fate, her fate, their fate. The trio drank in silence, an uneasy feeling of foreboding settled upon them all. Outside the tavern gusted flurries of snowflakes. It was unseasonably cold... they all understood the reasons.

The girl's red hair shimmered in the reflected glow of the hearth. One would think she made it through all right, had it not been for the dark circles under her brown eyes. She turned towards her companions, the eldest being more than twice her age. She studied them, their dark hair, their fierce eyes... no shimmer left in them, no spark. They both knew their fate, accepted the inevitable. Tears tinged her heart with pain and sorrow, "I'll go before you, you know," she said. The flat tone of hervoice made the younger man balk butnod in assertion.

The young man took his eyes off of her, letting them rest on the man beside him. _I hate this life,_ he thought to himself bitterly. Stoically, he drained his mug of its buttery contents. He took a deep breath, trying to voice what he knew in his soul to be true, "I- I know, I'm sorry." He also knew that 'sorry' would not be enough to bring them back. Staring down into the glass stein, he watched the residual foam slosh about, wishing to the gods that he had a chance to see the ocean. He had never seen it, though he always dreamed about white sand beaches, coral reefs be-speckled with fish and plant life. The ocean called to him, yet he never greeted her back. _Regrets,_ he thought,_ too many things left undone, left unsaid. _

The older man sipped at a goblet of sweet maywine. Rosmerta had been gracious enough to grant him that last wish. He always enjoyed maywine; the fruity bouquet that greeted his senses had never before failed to make him smile. His dark eyes held the frown that his face could not give, he knew this would be his last taste of merriment. He felt for his younger companions, knowing they would never enjoy a full life. The two of them would never live as long as he had, and yet... his life would also be cut down by decades... though, not as many as theirs would be. He set the glass down and stared into the uncommonly green eyes of the youthful figure next to him. "I shall probably follow soon after," a smirk played near his lips, just barely out of reach, "He's not one to tarry. I'll be dead before you get the spell cast."

Another nod, "I know." 

They sat in silence and finished their drinks.The girl waved the barkeep over and she obliged them with another round. _Thank gods for small miracles,_ the girl thought to herself. She had become particularly fond of mead, and had developed a taste for it during her first year of schooling... it always reminded her of another dark haired man. _I swear, I'm being haunted by them... these dark haired fiends._ 'Haunted', that word stuck a chord with her. She spent months lying awake, months before then relying on dreamless sleep drought. The potion was bo longer effective, she had long since built up a tolerance. Maybe she wasn't the only one with this problem. Ginny tested the waters, "He haunts me... at night," the unasked question was understood by the others at the small table. 

A small huff left the throat of the upper classman, "I was under the impression that I was the only recipient of nightly visits." He scowled at the drink in front of him. _Damn him for being like that, damn him for living_. His features softened as he looked at the girl, she seemed so scared and frightened. If he had been someone else, he would have held her hand, possibly given her a warm embrace of understanding. Instead, his mouth twitched with an expression of apologetic sympathy. 

The girl swallowed roughly, trying to be brave enough to voice her fears. "Does he....?" She couldn't say it. By the Gods, she couldn't give the words.

Harry admitted reluctantly to himself that Ginny was asking if Tom made advances towards him in his dreams. "... Yes." All the dreams were like that, every night he would wake up sweating, ghostly trails of hands touching him. Every nightmare had cold red eyes glaring at him, had the same smirk of amusement... had the same voice calling out to him seductively in the darkness. The girl's eyes were trained on him as if he held her fate in his hands.

Her small voice quivered when she dared to ask the next question, "And do you...?"

_Do I what? Love him? Want him? ..._ He frowned and cast a sidelong glance at the man next to him. Harry's hands fisted the dark material of the famous billowed robes, the elder man took little notice. Harry tried to keep from spitting out his words with venom, "Ginny, you of all people should know." He leaned on the slender body next to him, defeated and questing for comfort. _Don't ask this of me, Ginny. I cannot give you the answers you seek. _The elder man held Harry close, his arm protectively found its way around the slim body, acknowledging that he, too, was in agreement with the simple truth of Harry's words.

Ginny's lips mumbled a few choice phrases, finishing the tirade childishly, "I hate him," she ground out. And, like a child, a pout sat firmly on her face. _I hate him... and by all rights he should be dead,_ she thought.

The elder man held Harry closely and rested his head upon the boy's, trying to recall a time when he had willingly followed such a ruthless and uncaring man as Tom Riddle._ How did it all come to this? How many lives are you willing to extinguish? None of it will matter, ever._ It had been some years since Severus had last set eyes upon him and many more since he had been privileged enough to touch. He shook that thought off, recalling the pain he had suffered at his former master's hand. He looked over to the small and timid creature that was Ginny Weasley. He frownd, she also had been taken by Voldemort. 

Quietly he spoke the words he knew to be true, "All of us hate him.... and yet, all of us love him, too." The girl looked down, a flush of pink stained her pale cheeks. Severus breathed deeply, inhaling the mixed aroma of alcohol, the hearth and the smokey scent of his former student. 

The quiet young man buried his face in the warm folds of his former professor's robes. He silently wished that he could have years to spend exploring his partner. He knew that the morning would bring an end to it all. _Tom, I'll make sure you won't survive. That I can promise._Harry sighed, whispering into the dark fabric of Severus' robes. "I've loved him since before I was born. I've hated him since then too." Harry, breathing in recycled breath combined with the alcohol in his bloodstream made him drowsy. He wished he could sleep for a thousand years, knowing that in mere hours, he'd do just that.

"Do you think, if we just-" Her idea was shot down before it was even fully formed in her mind. 

Harry pulled away from the warm robes of his partner, giving the girl a stern and reprimanding look. "Never, Ginny," he replied. "You know he's not like that, he won't give up." 

She frowned, draining yet another glass of mead. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping soundlessly on the hardwood table. "So, what do we have left?"

Waving a free hand, Harry motioned for her to come closer. Ginny obeyed, scooting along the leather covered bench until Harry pulled her close to his chest, holding her. Harry leaned back against Severus, and Ginny leaned on them both. Her hand searched for another and found a compassionate mate in her former teacher's. She gave it an encouraging squeeze. 

Severus' soft voice came in a hushed undertone, though loud enough for both to hear his response. "We have memories, my dear ones. We have an evening, and enough galleons to drown ourselves in it all."

Bright green eyes found themselves locked upon the fading glow of the dying sunlight outside. A shiver passed through him and he gave in to Severus' request. "Let's make the best of it, then." He waved Rosmerta over for another round of drinks, telling her to bring a pitcher of each this time. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled the words to a long forgotten song: _"The singing sea, the talking trees are silent in a noisy way. The stars are bright but, give no light. The world spins backwards every day." _


End file.
